Die Hard
by Erutian
Summary: If she stayed behind, she would be dead to him forever. Thinking she would be safer, she chose to 'die' a second time. Taken by a rival gang with the hopes of gaining an advantage over the new Red Dragon leader, will she remain a corpse or be reborn?
1. Prologue: Darkskinned Devil

Before I begin, I would like to state a few things. First of all, I want to thank all of you who favourited and reviewed the original work, Old Habits. It is because of you and for you that I took the time to rewrite the first piece and to concentrate on finishing this one. Writing wouldn't be worth it without you, so please know you are in my muse and my drive in part.

Secondly, as is obligatory, I do not own anything from Cowboy Bebop. The only characters that are mine are Sarah and Alejandro.

For the record, as far as I am aware, the White Tiger gang is not canon to the original series. I have taken a few elements from the Fanfiction titled "Left Eye" by bebop-aria. I messaged him/her in hopes of gaining official permission to borrow a few things from his/her fic, but, unfortunately, I received no response.

So, I give credit to him/her for everything I borrowed. The White Tiger gang and any references to the past not explicitly mentioned in the series between Julia, Spike, and Vicious is all taken from this excellent fan-written history of my favourite love trio. I suggest you read this work if you are a fan of Cowboy Bebop. It is, by far, vastly superior to anything I could ever hope to put together.

Anywho, thanks for sticking with me this far and I hope you enjoy the much-anticipated sequel to Old Habits!

Prologue – Dark-skinned Stranger

Alejandro Rodriguez was not a man to be trifled with. His father had been a lifelong military man. Into his son, he had beaten a nigh unbreakable endurance for pain and a streak of cold, sadistic pleasure that were both masked by a calm, pleasant demeanor. While his father served in the Titan War, Alejandro started working the streets as a small-time drug dealer. By the time the elder male returned, his son had grown into a big-time manufacturer of the highly addictive, increasingly popular and profitable Red Eye narcotic.

It didn't take long for the father to discover the son's activities. As a man of the highest law (or so he was in his own eyes), it was the father's duty to discipline the son. This time, however, when the father raised the belt to teach the boy right from wrong, the man who had grown in the boy's place lashed out with all the pent up rage he'd been storing since he was a child. A loud crack of flesh on concrete and the son was liberated from the father's tyranny.

In the years since his father's death, Alejandro knew nothing of want or desperation. His sirenesque charm led to acquiring big name suppliers with large stocks of his product for cheap and rich, powerful buyers willing to spend whatever he asked. For the young, ex-military brat, his life was only getting better with each passing day.

The years passed and the male soon learned that nothing, good or bad, would last forever.

When the Red Dragon syndicate fell apart after a failed coup and the assassination of the ruling Van, Alejandro suddenly found himself without one of his major buyers. This left him with an overabundance of Red Eyes that sat in a warehouse with no place to go. The male was forced to pay for the large shipment out of pocket and scramble to find a new buyer willing to take the incriminating stock or an old buyer who needed more than Alejandro was originally willing to give. All it took was a greedy business partner or disgruntled rival to set fire to the stewing powder keg.

Less than three months later, the I.S.S.P. came knocking on Alejandro's door. Someone had tipped the cops off to the location of the drugs and Alejandro was left holding the bag. The dark-skinned male was now facing criminal charges that would have put him away for most of the rest of his days. It was a White Tiger inside man on the force that caused the shipment to "mysteriously" disappear and Alejandro's record to be wiped from the system. The male's life was saved, but it cost him dearly.

The White Tiger gang seized all of Alejandro's stock of Red Eyes and bought out all of his contracts. In return, they have him a laughable share of the profit and offered him the only salvation he had left: working directly under the Tiger. Now that word had gotten out that the cops had marked him, no one was interested in doing business with a lone dealer who was without support. By working for the White Tiger, he was able to continue living and supporting himself. For all intents and purposes, however, Alejandro felt like he had sold out and the money he earned now as nothing compared to the old days.

He never found out who betrayed him to the I.S.S.P. Since the day they arrived on his doorstep, however, there was only man alive (or dead, as some fools claimed) that Alejandro considered responsible: Vicious. It had been _that_ self-serving asshole that had brought the Red Dragon to its knees and, in turn, brought Alejandro to his. The male swore that one-day, no matter how long it took, he would get his revenge on the man responsible for his lot.

When word hit the street that the Red Dragon had raised anew, Alejandro saw his moment for glory. To his horror, instead of scheming to bring their resurrected rival to ruin, his employers were arranging a _business_ meeting with the Van. Worse, Alejandro was expected to sit pretty and play nice while trying to score a _partner_ out of his most loathed enemy. The male had never felt more humiliated and enraged in all his life. That is, to say, until Vicious declined his offer without so much as a second thought.

For the second time in his life, Alejandro Rodriguez felt all his self-control melt away. Forsaking his loyalties and common sense, the scorned male began to plot his final act of vengeance. It surprised him how easy it was to find the perfect target for his pent-up frustration and anger. It took only a little "coaxing" from a stray Red Dragon to locate the pretty blonde and her pretty little girl. With each step that proved only easier than the last, his confidence and assurance in his righteous cause grew. Now, with the little girl gagged, he had only to wait for his prize to return home and everything would fall into place.


	2. Chapter One: Bargaining for a Corpse

Chapter One – Bargaining for a Corpse

When the stranger had escorted Julia and Sarah to his car, he had blindfolded both of his captives. The long trip that followed did little to help Julia associate her surroundings with anything familiar. It may have been merely a ploy to disorient her and make her think she was far from safety, or it may have exactly what it seemed: a long haul to a secluded location where it was impossible to both escape and reach safety before being caught.

For three days, Julia had been kept locked up in a rather expensive-looking townhouse. She was kept mostly to a large, single bedroom and saw little of the outside world or her captor save when she was brought something to eat when hungry. Sarah was left to her care, just as the stranger promised. So far, nothing had happened in either direction of this attempted ransom. Blessed with a bathroom, a working television, and a radio, the older blonde was able to keep Sarah mostly calm and distracted from their captivity.

At the end of another day, the dark-skinned stranger came to pay the pair a visit. He was calm, sharply dressed, and smiling. The combination made Julia shiver and dread crawled up her spine. She was sitting on the edge of the bed with Sarah when he came in and he took a nearby desk chair and sat across from them. Again he smiled, this time a little too widely for Julia's comfort.

"How are you feeling, Miss Julia? You're comfortable, I hope."

"As much as I can be, given the circumstances, I suppose. Is there a problem?"

"No, no, no problems, Miss Julia. In fact, everything is going very well. We will contacting the Van within the hour and I wanted to make sure you were doing well."

"Will I be permitted to see or speak with him?"

"Of course, of course. We want to make certain that Vicious knows his precious cargo…" At these words, he paused and gently touched the older blonde's face. "…is safe and unharmed."

Growing unease spiked in Julia's chest at the male's touch and she was unable to force a smile. Sarah drew close to Julia's side and hugged her mother tightly. The woman hugged her child's shoulders and tried to draw strength from knowing that she was keeping Sarah safe.

"Sarah, are you excited to see your daddy again?"

"I don't have a daddy."

"Ah, yes, I remember. Vicious left you both behind, didn't he? It must have been very difficult raising a child on your own."

The male sighed, stood, and sunk down on the bed to sit next to Julia. Forlornly, he draped an arm over her shoulders and gently stroked her skin. She felt her blood run cold at this attempted kind gesture. The male turned a smile on her that she couldn't fully return.

"It breaks my heart to know you two have been hurt by his cold, lack of concern for anyone but himself. I, too, have suffered at his hand. It's such a pity to have to turn you over to him once this is all over. I'm certain I could prove a better provider than he."

The stranger stood and walked over to Sarah. He knelt in front of her and gave her a bright, predatory smile. Sarah whimpered and pulled away from him when he tried to take her hands in his.

"You poor child. Vicious has really traumatized you, hasn't he? Don't worry, sweetie. Uncle Alejandro will make certain he doesn't hurt you again."

"Alejandro?"

"Yes, Miss Julia?"

"You hadn't said your name before now."

"How rude of me, Miss Julia. Please, forgive me for my previous behavior. I am expected to conduct business in a certain fashion and, though it pains me to do so, I must follow protocol or my superiors will find someone else who will. I trust you understand."

"Of course."

Alejandro smiled and stood up straight. He stretched a hand out to Julia and waited expectantly. The blonde looked at him a long moment. When he did not move, she tentatively reached a hand to his. His smile never faltered as he drew her up to her feet. She gasped as he drew her against him and pressed his other hand at the small of her back. She held her breath and tried to ignore the warmth of him so close. Sarah whined, crawled towards her, and tugged at her mother's pant leg.

"I'm sorry, little Sarah, but Mommy and I have to go talk to Daddy now. She'll be back very soon, I promise."

"Momma, don't go! Please!"

"Shh, baby, it's okay. Momma won't be gone long. Take a nap for me and when you wake up, I'll be here. Okay?"

The little girl sniffled, but nodded and released Julia's pant leg. She gave Alejandro a scornful look and backed away towards the pillows. Their captor smiled sweetly and gave her a wink. He released the elder blonde from his grasp and walked towards the door. Silently, Julia followed him as her unease blossomed into fully bloomed anxiety.

Alejandro led his captive down a short hallway and into a second, surprisingly larger bedroom beside a small, half-bathroom. Inside was furnished not so dissimilarly from the one she'd shared with Sarah the last few days. There was a large, four-poster bed near the window with a pair of nightstands on either side. A cherry-oak armoire lay to the left of the door and a closet lay to the right. The carpet was plush under foot and the comforter soft as Julia was guided to sit on the edge.

With the bed in view, a digital video camera was set up on a tripod. Julia couldn't help but fidget at the sight of this. Worry burned in the core of her and she suddenly felt hot. Sweat dotted her forehead, soaked her palms, and made her shiver in the chill of the central air conditioning. She glanced warily at her captor and his broad grin did nothing for her nerves.

"You said we would be calling Vicious soon."

"Yes, darling, don't worry. This unfortunate business will be over quickly and you and Sarah and I can live in peace."

"And if Vicious still refuses?"

"We'll cross that bridge if we come to it. Now, if you'd like, you can take a few minutes to spruce yourself up while I get the camera and projector ready."

"What do you mean?"

"You want to look your best, don't you? For Vicious?"

"What's the camera for?"

"Well, you see, I've rewired my communicator to display the live recording feed from that camera. That way, Vicious will be able to see that you are perfectly unharmed. The television is attached to my communicator in a similar manner, except that it will create a larger display on the screen so we can see our leading man more clearly."

"I…see."

_Not_ for the first time, Julia felt panic rise in her chest at an alarming rate. Doubtlessly, she knew that her captor was hiding something from her. The words he spoke set her to quaking and her skin to crawling. His syrupy sweetness was more unnerving than Vicious's cold, dead emotionlessness had ever been. With Vicious, she knew what he was and how he thought; there was no question to it, no hiding it. With this man, this… Alejandro, he tried to mask his wickedness, his insanity, and that made him all the more wicked, all the more insane.

To try and put distance between them, if only for a short while, she stood from the bed and walked to the nearby bathroom. For having been kept locked away for almost a week, she looked surprisingly good. Her hair was clean from the umpteen showers she'd taken when she found herself ready to break down. Her eyes were starting to redden and the flesh beneath them looked increasingly darker as her days without sleep stretched on. The color in her face was dull, faded. A wry smile crept to her face.

"I'm beginning to actually look like a corpse…"

"Miss Julia?"

The blonde sighed and ran her fingers back through slightly tangled locks. Reluctantly, she sauntered into the bedroom where Alejandro waited. The male smiled at her; his communicator rested in his hands, dissected and rewired until it was scarcely recognizable. The large television set on the dresser was on and displayed a looping, white static. As she drew closer to the video camera, she could see the flashing red power light as the device warmed up and prepared for broadcast. Each step that brought her closer to that edge of the bed felt heavier and made her heart sink lower. As if reading her thoughts, Alejandro gently touched her shoulder.

"Don't worry. This will be over quickly."

She didn't even try to smile; she knew it was in vain. She did, however, manage a nod. She sat up, stock-still and straight. She forced her eyes forward and focused on the convex lens of the camera. She repeated Alejandro's lie like a mantra, as if it might somehow make the words tell truth.

It'll all be over soon. It'll all be over sooner. It'll all be over…

"Julia?"

The dark tone of her former lover surprised her. Perhaps because she had not noticed the familiar series of blips beeps as her captor dialed out to the new Van, perhaps because she had still been holding out the impossible hope, now lost, that this was all just a bad dream. Her gaze flickered to the television screen. Staring back at her, like a phantom from a ghost story and no different than the last time she'd seen him was the black crow king himself. Despite herself, Julia gasped.

"Vicious…"

"How did you…?"

Before the male could finish his statement, the dark-skinned devil took a seat beside the shaken blonde. The expression on Vicious's face did not change at the sight of his enemy's errand boy. This seemed to frustrate Alejandro because the arm he placed around Julia's shoulders was stiff and his grip tight. Her captor cleared his throat.

"How lovely to see you again, Vicious. I'm pleasantly surprised you answered my call."

"What is this about, Rodriguez?"

"Y'know, Vicious, that's what I love about you. You always dive right into business. No bullshit. No small talk. It's a wonder you didn't rise to power sooner."

"For someone who admired my intolerance for small talk, you're certainly carrying on quite a bit. Out with it, Rodriguez. What do you want?"

"Oh, Vicious, there's no need for such belligerence. All I want is my chance to meet and discuss with you the proposition prepared by my employers."

"We've already had this discussion, Rodriguez. You have my answer."

"That is true, Vicious; that is very true. However, my employers and I don't feel that we were given our due course and consideration. This time, I was hoping to find you in a more… agreeable mood."

"Cut the bullshit, Rodriguez. Word on the street is the White Tigers are looking for you. Said they found a couple of their guys, dead and your dirty prints all over them. So what is this really about?"

Julia froze. Her blood ran cold despite how rapidly her heart now beat. At her side, Alejandro fared no better. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw him fidget and twitch as strange sounds emitted from the male's mouth. Julia's gaze was transfixed on the image of Vicious on her television. She knew it was futile, but she found herself silently pleading for him to save her from this mess.

"Well, rumors do have a way of tainting innocent names. I'm certain someone like you wouldn't listen to such slander. After all, with such valuable cargo in my hands, it seems so inconsequential."

"What makes you think you hold anything in your hands that is of value to me?"

Alejandro twitched and his grip on the woman's shoulder tightened painfully.

"But… you…"

"Next time, try not to blackmail me with a corpse."

"Vicious! Don't you dare ignore me! I will not go down unavenged! I will kill you for what you did to me!"

"I don't have time to waste on a dead man walking and his corpse bride. Pray the bounty hunters kill you before the White Tigers find you."

With that, the communicator beeped and the image on the screen went dark. Alejandro screamed.


	3. Chapter Two: Damsel in Distress

Chapter Two – Damsel in Distress

Enraged beyond his ability to control it anymore, the dark-skinned devil threw himself at the camera and up-ended it. Julia jolted in surprise at the resulting crash. She found herself inching back from him as he rode the waves of his tantrum. The television set joined the camera a few moments later. When the electronic equipment no longer satisfied his need for destruction, he turned wild, wide eyes on her.

"A corpse, he says. Is that all you are to him?"

"I told you…"

It was hard to tell which stung more: the reddening palm print on her face, or the resounding collision resulted from his skin crashing into hers. She went silent then and staggered to recover from the shock. She stared at him incredulously for a long moment, unable to formulate words. Not even Vicious had ever raised a hand to her. He was panting as his rage simmered down and his clenched fist slowly relaxed.

"No… no, it's okay. This is only a minor set back. We can fix this. We can. It'll just take a little preparation."

Julia said nothing. There were no words left to her. Gently, her fingertips caressed her tender cheek. Without looking at her, Alejandro stormed out of the bedroom. Uncertainty crept through her and she was tempted to lock herself in the other room with Sarah. After witnessing Alejandro's outburst, however, she was afraid of what he might do in return.

Perfectly calm and suddenly infinitely more frightening than before, the man returned to the bedroom. Julia trembled as he stalked past her and scooped the dissected communicator from the floor where it had fallen. Horrified, she saw the long, thick kitchen knife in his free hand. She cringed when he shoved the communicator into her hands and then she yelped in painful surprise when he gathered a fistful of her hair and yanked her to her feet.

"I'm very sorry, Miss Julia. I'm afraid I'm going to have to back on my word. I won't let him just ignore me like this. Not after what he did to me. If I'm going down, it won't be before he's paid his price for what he did. I hope you understand."

"Alejandro, please… _please_ don't do this. Think of Sarah. Does she deserve to suffer for his mistakes? Did _she_ do anything wrong?"

"No harm will come to her. I can keep that promise. I fear I cannot promise that his stubbornness won't lead to your suffering, however."

With another sharp yank, he dragged her from the room and down the steps to the main floor. She staggered down the stairs and nearly the dropped the communicator. Shakily, she clutched the unit and focussed on holding it with the hopes of drowning out the thundering headache and quickening fear that grew tight around her heart. The landing was mere feet from the front door and if not for Sarah, Julia might have tempted fate. Her only escape route grew ore and more out of reach as Alejandro threw her like a rag doll towards the long couch on the left half of the living room.

"Whatever happens, Miss Julia, please remember that it was Vicious who chose this fate, not I…"

With a sickening thud, Julia fell limply to the floor, no more than a heartbeat after his words faded and the sharp, focussed pain spread from the base of her neck.

* Point of View Change *

Vicious sat in solemn silence longer after the image of Julia's face had faded from his comm. It had come as a shock to see her face for the first time since that night. For all he knew or cared, she truly was dead. Still, it did not stop the faint flicker of hope from burning: the dying hope that perhaps she had changed her mind and he could take her back into his keeping.

His first in command, a man by the name of Rion, waited beside the brooding male in silence. He awaited his leader's orders without so much as a twitching muscle. Rion was no fool. He had not been chosen as the Dragon's right claw by sheer power alone. He knew better than to disturb Vicious when he was so deadly quiet. When the elder male finally turned in Rion's direction, he was ready without pause.

"What do you require, sir?"

"Trace the source of the last received call on this unit. I want to know where that bastard's holed up."

Without question, without hesitation, without a second thought, Rion nodded and took the offered comm. He turned, wordless, and took long strides towards the exit of the large room. As he reached a hand for the doorknob, the communicator began to buzz and hum. The pale brunette froze at the sound and wasted no time in returning to his leader's side. The older male was as silent as he was emotionless when he flipped the unit open.

"Alejandro, you have my answer."

"Forgive me, _great_ lord Vicious! I just couldn't resist the chance to call and apologize for my behavior!"

Vicious said nothing. The screen on his end was dark. Either the delivering unit had been damaged or Alejandro was covering the broadcast screen. A glare tugged at the male's eyes, but he remained solid as stone while he listened to the faint voice behind Alejandro's feverish pitch.

"I realized my mistake in trying to barter with a man like you. I had hoped to leave you with a parting gift: I will orchestrate for you your lover's dying song. She has sung for me so sweetly that I wanted to share it with you before she sings no more."

A low growl threatened to seize him as suddenly recognized the soft sounds interjecting Alejandro's speech. He could hear, quite plainly, the resonating tremble of flesh pounding into flesh and soft, struggling whimpers. Fire burned in the pit of his stomach; had she betrayed him again? Was Alejandro calling to reveal her treacherous match-up? Suddenly, he heard the woman scream. The sound was gurgled behind something and flooded with pain.

"Can you hear her, Vicious? She sings so beautifully. Her tears are like a fine wine, the taste heightened by her fear. It's a shame you can't be here to witness this. It never ceases to amaze me how easily flesh renders at the kiss of sharp steel…"

There was a nauseating 'cinch' audible for only a moment until the muffled scream drowned out all other sound. He could hear her struggled sobs fill the space between her tormented cries of pain and desperation. Not once did she cry out to him. She had accepted the fate she chose so many months ago.

"What's the matter, Vicious? Nothing to say? Are you so unmoved by the dying song of your whore? I'm afraid my communicator is malfunctioning at the moment. I'm only able to send and receive sound, which robs me of the satisfaction of seeing your face as I fuck your dead girlfriend. Or should I say…" The 'cinch' was there again. Julia screamed and sobbed, but the sound was turning ragged, labored. She wouldn't be screaming much longer. "…your soon-to-be dead girlfriend."

Violent, consuming, unadulterated rage shook through the silent male. Crimson flooded his vision and his knuckled turned white with effort. The communicator nearly disintegrated in his grasp. The broken remains clattered to the floor between his quickly splaying fingers. In an instant, he was clutching Rion's shirt collar and dragging the other male to his knees in front of him.

"**Find her!**"


	4. Chapter Three: Sasurai no COWBOY

Chapter Three: Sasurai no COWBOY (A New Perspective)

The dark-haired stranger crept forward. Each step brought him closer to the quiet, scarcely lit condo. He held his breath and crossed under the front window and pressed his back against the outside wall. From the living room window, he could hear the sounds of muffled voices, soft whimpers, and the unmistakable sounds of someone doing something naughty. He ventured his gaze towards the window and braved a glance inside.

"Fuck…"

He first instinct was to blame the brat. She was, after all, the hotshot hacker with the all-access channel to the all-access information he needed to veer in the right direction. He knew, however, it was the old man's responsibility to get the dirt on the target. He also knew that senile old bastard was his direct link to the official information kept by the all-powerful I.S.S.P. As he leaned in to get another look inside, he sighed and forced himself to concentrate. Even with the kid and the old man working together, neither of their sources of information could have told them the target was a sado freak with no regard to whoever might be peeking in.

"Man I knew there was nothing good about messing with an exiled White Tiger…"

The cowboy rolled his eyes and checked the clip of his weapon. He was wholly convinced there was enough lead in that thing to ruffle some feathers and maybe, if he was lucky, wound the wormy little bastard before he got too snarky. Tilting away from the door, he locked the clip back in place and cocked the pistol, holding it down against his thighs. With a deep breath, he turned towards the door, fired off a round at the locked knob, and delivered a swift kick to the splintered hole. The male riding a collapsing blonde suddenly froze and turned towards the entering bounty hunter.

"Who the fuck…?"

"My mistake, Rodriguez. Did I catch you at a bad time?"

The green-haired youth issued a cocky grin and aimed the barrel of his trusty Jericho at the target. A 'clang!' echoed as the bloody knife slipped from Alejandro's hand and hit the floor. His eyes were wide and fearful; he never expected anyone to show up unannounced. The grin on the intruder's face only deepened at this sight and he looked down his nose at the mouse caught in his paw.

"Now why don't you say good-night to the lady and we'll just make a nice, clean exit…"

"S-spike…?"

The faint voice was hoarse and weak. Were it any other voice to any other man, it would have been completely unrecognizable. The moment it registered to his senses, however, the bounty hunter knew whose voice it was without mistake. Shaken and thrown off-guard by the unexpected realization that this tryst was anything but consensual, Spike was unable to move or process a complete thought. It was not until Alejandro came suddenly running at him, his knife in hand, blood-soaked, and naked, that the man came back to his senses.

Without a heartbeat's hesitation, the Jericho sounded off and the loud, belligerent screams of Alejandro Rodriguez were silenced forever. He paid no attention to the dead and forfeited bounty as his feet carried him to the side of the fallen blonde. His mental self ceased to be as instinct, pure and base, took over. His hands moved of their own accord to find the source of all the blood drenching his clothes. Her back was drowned in slashes and scars, some surface-wounds, some too deep to see the end. Panic rose in the male's throat and he hurriedly searched the woman's body for any pulse points he could reach.

In an instant, he was pulling her into one arm, the other desperately pawing for the communicator in his pocket. His fingers were slippery with blood and it was difficult to keep a hold on the unit as he dialed out to the Bebop. Jet's face possessed the once-blank screen. His expression changed from self-serving interest to surprise. He leaned in towards the broadcast camera on his own unit.

"Spike? Is that you? What the hell happened to you? You're covered in blood!"

"No time to explain. I need an ambulance here. Now!"

"Alright, alright, Spike, I've got it covered. Just calm down."

No. There was no calming the bounty hunter's racing heart. In his arms, he held the dying body of a woman twice dead. With no new deep gashes into her back to keep her from losing consciousness, the blonde had promptly passed out. It was too much to hope that the loss of consciousness had been merely from shock. The blood drowning the carpet beneath them dashed that hope with a quick glance.

"An ambulance is on its way, Spike. What happened? Are you hurt?"

"Not now, Jet. Later. I'll call you from the hospital."

"Wait, Spike-!"

Jet's voice cut off as Spike killed the link. Forcing himself to leave the limp woman behind, he dashed up the stairs and threw open what appeared to be a linen closet. From within, he gathered an armload of towels and set back towards Julia's body. Mere seconds passed like hours as he tried to soak up as much blood as he could, praying to every god that would listen that he might be able to stem the bleeding. How long he stayed there, he couldn't gauge. When the landing creaked with the weight of a newcomer, however, it didn't take a second for him to have the Jericho up and readied towards the entering stranger. The paramedic froze at the sight of the weapon and dropped his end of the stretcher as his hands reached for the sky.

"Wh-whoa, man!"

One look around the trashed living room and the other paramedic was scrambling to pick the stretcher up and haul ass in the other direction. Spike dropped the pistol and scooped Julia's frail body into his arms. He forced himself to his feet and dashed towards the EMTs, paying them little mind as he shouldered his way past them and towards the ambulance. The blonde's warmth was fading quickly and he cradled her against him as the two shocked paramedics loaded into the ambulance behind him and the vehicle took off.

The two other males tried to pry the limp form from the bounty hunter's arms, but he glared and held possessively to her. Her limbs stretched outwards and swayed with each bump and pothole they encountered and he had to curb an angry remark at the driver. Were he to be driving in the same situation, he knew his control would be nothing compared to this. For what seemed like years, he held her for everything he was worth. His head was pressed firmly against hers and he mentally willed her to survive, to keep going through whatever had happened. There were too many questions left unanswered.

The hospital might have been in the middle of nowhere on a meteor-ridden Earth for all Spike cared. By the time the ambulance had reached its destination, Julia's breathing had become deathly shallow. Unable to ignore her failings any longer, he allowed the on-hand EMTs to take her from him and fix her to the stretcher. She was hooked to several machines, each of them beeping and humming and blaring the nearing end of the life to whom they were attached. Spike growled low, watching as the attendants began to usher the stretcher out of the ambulance and towards the hospital's emergency room entrance.

He followed behind at a slow pace and tried to put his thoughts together as he returned to himself. Basic instinct faded and he was able to function at his normal level. There were people around him, some asking questions, some giving orders, all of them complete strangers and completely unimportant. Words escaped his lips at an automatic monotone as he walked, keeping the blonde in his sights at all times. When he finally was able to take a seat and try to relax, the persistent bothers seemed satisfied with his information and left him alone. Occasionally, a doctor or nurse would approach with an update on Julia's status and condition, assuring him that he would be able to see her as soon as she was stable and as soon as they were certain she would make it.

Unable to force his focus on any one thing and exhausted from the myriad thoughts and racing, endless trails of answerless questions and "what if's," he allowed himself to surrender to the darkness of unconsciousness with one final prayer for the safety of his devilish angel.


	5. Chapter Four: A Moment Forgotten

AN: Ohhai, gais. Long time no see, huh? ._.; Sorry about that. My laptop broke with the incomplete version of this chapter and then I had to move it to a new computer and actually get to work on it. Lots of things have happened for me as far as real life goes, but I promised myself I would finish and post this damned chapter today if it killed me, haha. So, after a cliff-hanger and a half, I have finally returned with the next installment of this piece. I hope it was worth the wait!

As usual, I do not own any of the Cowboy Bebop characters as much as I wish I did. ;_;

Chapter Four - A Moment Forgotten

The slow, steady, faded beeps of the various heart monitors in the surrounding hospital rooms was both maddening and lulling as the dark-haired male waited for word from the big wigs in charge of Julia's care. He found himself drifting between consciousness and sleep as uncounted minutes, perhaps even hours, passed without notice or concern. It was not until he felt a rough, insistent tug at his shoulder that he finally roused himself completely from his inward meditation. When he saw the familiar tanned flesh and mostly bald head, however, Spike could only muster an agitated groan.

"What do you want, Jet? Can't you see I'm trying to sleep here?"

"What the hell, Spike! I get a frantic message of few words, even less information, and nothing else. I'm forced to come out here and drag it outta ya myself when I get no answers. Now, the best you can do is piss and moan 'cause I disturbed your beauty sleep? What gives? You were _supposed_ to be on a bounty hunt."

Spike sighed.

"Bounty's dead, Jet. That's all you need to know."

"What's got your panties wound so tight? You act like it's your own mother out there on the slab. Who'd you need the ambulance for, anyway? You look pretty unharmed to me."

"It was her, Jet. I busted into the place and found him slashing marks into her flesh and laughing like a madman. Before I could even blink, he was dead and she was dying in my arms. I couldn't think. I just reacted. I don't even remember most of it now. It's all just a blur… or maybe just a dream."

"What are you talking about, Spike? Who was there? Who's back on that operating table?"

"It was… Julia."

"Julia? You said she was dead."

"Cats have nine lives, Jet."

"Jesus, Spike. This is nuts. Have the doctors said anything?"

"Not yet. I was waiting for an answer before you showed up."

"Right; I get it; I get it. A man only needs to feel unwelcome so many times, you know? I'll stick close, in case you need me. Gimme a call when you're ready to go back, alright? Take these. You look like you could use a change of clothes."

Jet tossed a clean suit at his partner. It wasn't until a few moments before then that he'd first noticed Spike's… unusual attire. He wore a set of bright blue scrubs; two sizes too short for the abnormally tall male. He eyed the male for a moment, obviously inquisitive but knowing he would get no more answers from the man for now. Spike nodded appreciatively and shouldered the spare clothes.

"I'll let you know as soon as we're ready to go."

Jet noticed the decided inclusion of a second party in that statement, nodded, and walked out of the waiting room. As if on cue, a swishing, white lab coat took possession of Spike's field of vision a few moments afterwards. It didn't take him as long to snap to attention as when Jet had first arrived. Spike was on his feet in an instant; his attention was focussed clearly, intently on the man in white. He couldn't waste even a little effort to look calm or nonchalant.

"How is she?"

"She's stable. For now. I don't know what mess you found her in, but she isn't going to come out of this without more than her fair share of scars."

_Nothing she hasn't survived before._

"Can I see her?"

"She isn't out of surgery yet. She lost a lot of blood."

Spike winced. He recalled how soaked his clothes and skin had been by the time he arrived at the hospital. He rubbed his hands subconsciously along the length of his gangly arms. The feel of tough, sturdy cotton was unfamiliar and unsettling and he silently thanked Jet for the change of clothes he had left on the chair when he stood. Trying to force memories of the widening red stain on his yellow dress shirt, he scratched fingers into his scalp and tilted his head as he regarded the other male.

"She's gonna be okay, though, yeah? She'll make it?"

"It's too early to be completely certain. There are still some complications that might set in. If I had to guess, though, I'd say she'll be fine in a few days. She just needs to rest. Her body has suffered a lot of trauma."

Spike nodded, trying not to dig his clenching fingers into his arms so tightly that he drew blood. The mere memory of what Alejandro had done, what he'd been doing when Spike first walked in, made the cowboy want to bury his Jericho down the bastard's windpipe and squeeze off a round or two. Bring the fucker back and start all over a few times and Spike might still not be satisfied. He shuddered and forced himself to think of what was here, now, in front of him.

"She got a room yet? Somewhere I can wait for her? Besides, y'know, out here."

The surgeon nodded and motioned for the taller male to follow. They walked down two hallways, went up a floor in the elevator, and crossed another four corridors before the lead male seemed satisfied with annoying the ex-gangster. They were in a corner of the hospital that had a view of the more wooded, suburban areas of Mars and Spike couldn't help but smile. _She'll love it up here._ He noticed, with a wince, that they were also in the main stay of the I.C.U. patient wing and he had to remind himself that she wasn't in the clear just yet.

"She'll be brought here once we're certain she can stand to be on her own a while. She'll be sedated. Heavily. So, there's no saying when she'll wake up for sure. You can stay here to wait for her. Change, shower, whatever. Give the nurses a ring if you need anything. There's a cafeteria on the main floor and some vending machines down the hall."

"Yeah, thanks, doc."

Without another word, the doctor took his leave of the impatient cowboy and proceeded into the nearby room of another patient. Taking a moment to let himself breathe, Spike leaned his back against the wall beside what would soon be Julia's bed. He slid down a few inches, caught himself before meeting the floor, and closed his eyes. To think that he would be standing here, waiting to see the woman he loved, after having saved her from nearly dying… It was hard to process.

His thoughts drifted towards the last time he'd seen the beautiful blonde. Ironically, she had been lying in his arms then, too; bleeding to death and leaving him with a few words and nothing but the smell of gunpowder and wet leather. His will to keep dreaming had left him when he felt her last breath escape pale, bloodied lips. With nothing left to live for, he'd gone off to see if he really was just dreaming and then the world had faded to black.

Instead of waking to the sound of angel's singing and a long-lost lover welcoming him into the world after whatever he'd been living, he'd been dragged out of peaceful reverie by the voice of his partner, Jet. The first had been followed almost immediately by the annoying sounds of the ship's only remaining source of real trouble: Faye Valentine. Desperately he wanted to go back to that nice, silent place where nothing hurt or mattered anymore. The bald-headed male and the loose-lipped woman would have none of it, however. With a begrudging, half-sincere expression of thanks and a raging headache, Spike tried to settle into some degree of normalcy.

Spike had never believed in anything as foolish or selfish as suicide. But with Julia gone and the man responsible for her death equally shaken loose the mortal coil, the gangster-turned-bounty-hunter could do little to stave his almost overwhelming desire to join them. Despite his partners' protests and refusal to aid him in his insanity, he pushed himself toward every big name bounty with a thousand people standing between them. The bigger the risk, the harder and faster he pushed himself to bring it home.

Most times, the bounty ended up dead or in the hands of another hunter. Occasionally, however, he succeeded in bringing home the bacon. No matter what happened, to Spike the results were always the same: failure. So long as he still breathed, so long as he was able to take on the next bounty, his previous mission had been a complete and utter failure. Death, his once-constant companion, had turned its back on him.

Somewhere along the way, on a mission to Earth, he'd run into the little brat and Jet's mutt by happenstance. At the sight of him, there was no stopping it: the Bebop crew of misfits and thieves was back together as one. Days turned into months turned into almost a year. With the crew rejoined on the old ship, it was easy for Spike to pretend it was just like old times. Except Ed's hair and legs were a lot longer. And Faye's skirts got a little longer. And Jet's temper became a bit longer. And the cavity in Spike's chest still burned with the same intensity as it had the day he held his dying blonde in his arms.

Dying. Dying. Dead. Gone. Gone for good. Leaving him behind. Leaving him still dreaming. It wasn't fair. It wasn't…

"Excuse me, Mister…?"

"Spike. The name's Spike."

Startled out of his reflection, the male struggled a moment to stand straight. He ran his fingers back through his unkempt hair and realized, absently, that he still hadn't changed out of the borrowed scrubs. He collected himself and blinked a few times, glancing at the female nurse who had spoken.

"Right, Mr. Spike, you're here for Miss…"

"Julia. Right. How is she?"

The nurse gave him a look that told him his interruption hadn't gone unnoticed. Spike shrugged it off and the nurse rolled her eyes.

"She's being wheeled this way as we speak. She's still sedated and she may wake up a little disoriented. There are a few gentlemen outside who'd like to have a word with her when she's feeling up to it."

Spike winced inwardly. Perfect timing, the ISSP. This is exactly what he needed right now, what Julia needed right now. He gave a brief nod to the shorter woman. Right, sure, whatever. That didn't matter if he got her out of here before they could start poking their nose where it didn't belong. For all he knew, the sedated blonde had been through and done more things than the ISSP would like to hear about and until he knew for sure everything that was going on, there wasn't a soul he was letting near her.

The nurse was less than amused by his half-hearted responses, but seemed satisfied enough that she gave him a polite smile and headed back out of the room. With what little time he had, he dashed into the small bathroom and stripped off the awkward, too-small scrubs. They were discarded carelessly on the toilet seat before being replaced by his usual yellow button-up dress shirt and blue jeans. He was slinging the jacket over his shoulder as he opened the door and headed back into the room.

He didn't have to wait long before the doctor he'd spoken with earlier as well as another nurse from this floor entered the room, the latter pushing along a wheelchair occupied by a pale, instantly recognizable blonde. Spike's heartbeat skipped and his breath stilled in his lungs at the sight of her. She looked half-dead (which probably wasn't far from the truth) and her hair fell about her limply, shielding most of her face from his sight. His arms twitched at his side, an almost overwhelming urge to wrap her up in his arms and hold her against him.

He watched, feeling oddly helpless, as the nurse maneuvered the drowsy phantom into the bed at the center of the room. It burned his insides to see her attached to all that machinery and the cacophony of blips and beeps did nothing to abate his silent anger. Lanky digits curled into his palm and he took a deep breath to keep from punching a nearby wall. Orbs the color of rusted metal squeezed shut as the frail blonde whimpered and gasped in the pain of movement. They did not open until she was quiet again.

She did not look at him as the nurse adjusted her in the bed and yet still while the doctor pressed a stethoscope to her chest before withdrawing. He opened his mouth to say something, found no words, and promptly shut it again. Before he was able to try again, he felt a strong hand on his upper arm as the doctor attempted to lead him out of the room. For a moment, he hesitated and was tempted to throw a fist in the unsuspecting doctor's direction, but he knew he would be thrown out with a moment's notice and instead chose to comply with this silent command. The doctor pulled closed the door to Julia's room and the two men regarded each other in the hall.

"She's been hurt pretty bad."

"I can see that."

"My drivers tell me you weren't the one who made the call, but you were waiting for them when they showed up. Rather suspicious."

"Did your boys also happen to mention the dead man on the floor? Or the fact that I ran her into that ambulance faster than either of them could have hoped to attempt?"

"They did, actually. But that isn't to say you aren't just a guilty man looking for an innocent way out."

Spike's stomach twisted and he felt that urge to punch rise with his temper and he bit back bile from the back of his throat.

"What happened to her?"

"I saved her. The rest doesn't matter."

The doctor exhaled exasperatedly and shook his head.

"Look, young man, the police are going to come looking for her to find out what happened. They're going to ask me to write a statement given that I'm her assigned caregiver and I'd like to know what I can to help her. Besides her, you're the only one to have come out of that scene alive and I'd like to have some idea of what the hell happened. If you aren't able to provide me with the information I need, I'll have to ask you to leave. Do you understand?"

The cowboy's eyes narrowed dangerously, but he took a slow breath in.

"Doc, I'm a cowboy, get it? I was going after the dead man in the apartment when I found them together. He was..." A fist curled at his side. "...hurting her. I made sure he couldn't do that anymore and I phoned my partner for help while I tried to stop all that bleeding. That's when your boys arrived."

"Do you know her? For a bounty hunter with a dead bounty on his hands, you're sticking around an awfully long time."

"I knew her, sure. It was a long time ago. Another lifetime ago."

The doctor scoffed briefly, but said nothing about the half-committed response.

"Alright. You can stay. For now. She'll need someone at her side to help her regain her strength. Don't think for a moment this is over. As soon as she's healed up, she'll be speaking with the police. Alone. And I wouldn't be surprised if they asked for your input as well."

"Right, right, sure. Whatever. So long as she gets better and I can take her home when this is all over."

The older male eyed the cowboy a moment, giving a slow, single nod of his head. Without speaking again, the doctor turned back down the hallway and disappeared into another patient's room. Spike quietly opened the door to Julia's room and peaked his head inside. The nurse was still sitting at her side, fussing wordlessly over this and that before she noticed the audience. She shared a gaze with the cowboy for a long moment before nodding, as if giving him permission to enter.

Without needing to be told (or rather, gestured) twice, he dipped back inside the room. Long legs quickly bridged the gap between himself and the bed at the center of the room. The nurse on the other side of the bed went over a few more things in some mental checklist before nodding to herself. She gave Spike a gentle, sympathetic pat on the arm before leaving him alone with the woozy woman sitting up dazedly in her bed. Again Spike had to keep from the overwhelming urge to wrap Julia in a tight embrace. To keep himself firmly planted in place, he drew up a chair next to her and wrapped his arms across his chest. The blonde barely flinched as he leaned forward, trying to get a better view of her face.

"Are you... really here... right now, Spike?"

Her voice was cracked and weak, but unmistakable. Spike's heart felt like it would melt or flutter right out of his chest at the sound of his name on her lips. He shifted somewhat, his elbows now resting on his legs and his hands rubbing idly together.

"I'm here."

The corners of her mouth twitched faintly, but she didn't look up. She was hunched forward some in the bed, her back mere inches from the half upright mattress. Her gaze was glued to her fingers which she picked at, at a loss for words from either his presence or the events of the last time she'd been conscious. Or both. After a long moment of silence, she glanced up at him briefly, unable to hold his gaze for more than a few heartbeats.

"Spike, I..."

Her voice broke on a mix of something like unshed tears and physical pain.

"It's okay, Jules. I know. Me, too."

"I didn't... I never meant to..."

"Julia..."

She gasped quietly, but the sudden expanse of her lungs caused her to wince and bite back a whimper. Spike was on his feet despite himself and he leaned out a hand to touch her shoulder, to be sure she was okay. She held up her own hand, stopping his forward advance, and looked up at him through strands of overly dried, limp blonde hair. His whole body ceased to move, his breath caught in his throat, as she frowned just the faintest bit and stretched the forbidding hand towards him.

Her gaze moved from his face to the hand he'd intended to lay upon her and she studied it. She traced her fingertips along his gangly digits, the look in her eyes something akin to fascination as their skin met. Her brows furrowed every so often, as if she were struggling with some unspoken thought and her lower lip trembled as tears welled in her eyes. A shaky breath passed through her as she slid her fingers between his, entwining their hands, and enfolded him in her grasp. Her hand was unsteady and seemed as though the mere constricting of her muscles with the effort shot pain through her, but she endured it, mesmerized by the simple fact that he was here, she was touching him, he was real.

"Spike..."

His free hand moved to brush the veil of tresses out of her eyes and behind her ear. That hand slid along her jaw line in the same motion and drew her gaze back to his. The faintest hint of a smile played about his lips and though he would never shed them, tears in his eyes shone back at her. She opened her mouth to speak and then, suddenly, the novelty of the moment had shattered and the memory of everything leading up to it had crashed through to the forefront of her thoughts. Fear lined her features and her hand went limp in his.

"Sarah!"


End file.
